


A New Part

by ZazzyZ



Series: Facades and Firearms [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: AH Crew Cuteness, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Amputee, Boys be heisting, Disability, Fake AH Crew, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Panic Attacks, Physical Disability, Prosthesis, Secrets, Self-Doubt, Team as Family, fluff ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-06
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 10:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8486023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZazzyZ/pseuds/ZazzyZ
Summary: Jeremy has been a part of the Fake AH Crew for a year now, but he's accidentally neglected to mention a very important detail about himself to the rest of his team. Okay, he's intentionally neglected to mention an important detail. It isn't ever really an issue, though - until one day, it is. But as it transpires, Jeremy has been dealing with a lot more than just one stupid secret, and it becomes a team effort to extinguish the darkness in Lil J's mind.





	

Jeremy locked the door to his room as quietly as he could, but the resounding ‘click’ it made regardless was surely heard floors below. Still cursing quietly to himself, he moved to his bed and sat down with a sigh.

It had been a long day preparing for the heist tomorrow, and he had only made things worse for himself in his preparations that morning. The prosthetic leg he had bought himself on EBay was not the right length as his other leg, but in his rush that morning he had quite forgotten to pad the base of his shoe so he was the right height on both sides. He had spent the day with a noticeable limp and a reasonable amount of pain, prompting the rest of the crew to ask him with concern if he would be all right for the heist the next day. 

It didn’t matter if he would be. He _had to_ be all right for the heist the next day.

He slowly went through the motions of removing his prosthetic leg for the night, all the while considering the events of tomorrow. It was his first real heist as a member of the A-Team, and he was more than a little nervous. He had been a member of the Fake AH Crew for almost a year now, but only as a B-Team member. If he fucked this up…he didn’t even know what the rest of the team would do. He didn’t know what _he_ would do. God, he needed this. 

He removed his leg with a sigh of relief. He went through his usual routine of care, cleaning his prosthetic and moisturising his leg. It was nice to be able to do this. Less than two years ago, he hadn’t even had enough money to buy food for himself, let alone a leg or moisturiser. It was the military’s fault, if he was going to be super honest.

Or, if he was going to super, super honest, it was kind of his fault. At least, that was what the army medic had said when he stepped on that land mine.

Amputated above the knee. Discharged with honours, for doing his part for his country and fucking himself up immeasurably. But that was as much as the country could do for him. He was shipped back home with his last paycheck to his name and only three working limbs.

Well, what else could he have done? If the country was going to fuck him, he was going to fuck the country. He ended up exactly where anyone with half a brain would expect, a homeless, crippled beggar on the streets of Los Santos. He made a reasonable amount presenting his army medallions – enough to feed him every third day, at least – but he found he made a lot more simply by swiping the wallets of passers-by out of their pockets. He was practically invisible to them, and they walked so close. After that, he was able to eat every second day. It wasn’t great, but it was working.

Until he made the mistake of pilfering the wallet of a distracted, longhaired man. He was just sorting through its contents – his driver’s license said his name was Matt, but this was just a fact he noticed in passing as he hurried to the change pocket – when the man returned.

“Hey!” Jeremy heard a man shout, and he looked up as innocently as possible.

“Hey,” said Jeremy, as the man – Matt – approached him with a face like thunder. “You dropped this in front of me. I was just looking for your details.”

“Yeah?” said Matt furiously, and with a swift movement he snatched Jeremy’s bag and his wallet back. Deftly his riffled through it and produced five similar wallets. He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

“People drop their wallets a lot,” said Jeremy lamely, and Matt rolled his eyes. Then his eyes fell on Jeremy’s leg, or lack thereof.

“Is that another scam?” he asked resignedly. “You got it folded up under you or something?”

“Yep,” said Jeremy brightly. “I thought robbing people wasn’t enough, so I’m tag-teaming it with a disability. I’m just pretending to have had my leg blown off by a landmine so I can field stupid fucking questions from civilians. I love it. I’m looking forward to tonight, though, when I unfold my leg and go home to my loving wife and children.”

Matt was silent for a long time. Eventually, he tossed the bag and his wallet back to Jeremy. “Keep it,” he said gruffly.

Jeremy gave him an incredulous look. “I don’t want your _pity,_ ” he said, his voice breaking a little.

Matt sat on the pavement before Jeremy, ignoring the city moving around them. “What do you want, then?”

The question bewildered Jeremy. Truth be told, he had never been asked before. He had gone straight from being told what to do every minute of the day at the orphanage, to having his life set out for him in the military, to being the scum of the Earth begging on the streets and having no plan at all. What did he want? He’d never really considered for himself.

“A chance,” he heard himself say, but his mind was a thousand miles away. “To decide my life for myself.”

A smile broke across Matt’s face. “Well, you attempted to rob the right person today,” he said cheerfully. “Ever heard of the Fake AH Crew?”

And Jeremy moved in to Matt’s house and never looked back. Matt leant him the money to buy a prosthetic and introduced him to Geoff Ramsey. Jeremy knew he cut an underwhelming figure – not only was he decidedly short, but he was still a bit stiff on his new leg – but when he sniped a Diet Coke out of Vagabond’s hand from across the room, Geoff was pleasantly surprised by the little man with the death wish and hired him on the spot.

He worked his way up the ranks and astounded everyone with his countless skills – mostly learnt in military training, but there are some great things that orphanages can teach you, too – until a year ago, BrownMan had to leave the crew. The rumour was that he got caught up in something bigger than the Fake AH Crew. Something that would endanger everyone. At least, that was what the note he had left them said.

The A-Team were devastated, and rightly so. Ryan left to search for Ray, and didn’t come back for three months. The ripples of the loss were felt the whole way through the crew. 

But when Ryan came back empty-handed, Geoff decided the team needed to move on. They could not mourn forever. If Ray did return, his room in the penthouse would be waiting for him. But they could not operate as a team of five. The hole was too great. Geoff contacted Jeremy and told him to move into the penthouse as soon as possible.

Jeremy was ecstatic, but there were a few little issues. He was still living with Matt, for one thing, and he didn’t want to desert his best friend. He knew he could not fill the place Ray left, and attempting to filled him with dread. But worst of all was the secret he had been keeping all along.

He didn’t want anyone to know he was an amputee. He wouldn’t get anywhere in this business if anyone thought he was weak. So he asked Matt to keep it a secret and he attributed his occasional limp to a leftover shrapnel ache. It worked fantastically. Everyone took him seriously. For the first time in years, he was not regarded with constant pity. 

Now it was an issue, though. Living in the penthouse? How could he hide it all day? For fuck’s sake, he’d only spent one summer with his prostheses and it had nearly killed him. Even not wearing long pants, the bloody thing got so _hot_. There was no way he could hide it. 

And yet he did. In the end, it was no choice at all. He was still paying Matt back for the cheap, castoff prosthetic – they were so fucking _expensive_ – and he was desperate to be able to stand on his own two feet, so to speak. He wanted to be able to regard his best friend as his equal, rather than his benefactor. And more than anything, he wanted to have a leg made just for him. 

So he left Matt’s and moved into the penthouse, and set about trying to be the Ray he knew he couldn’t be. He never removed his leg until he was sure that everyone was asleep and his door was locked. Sometimes this meant he didn’t take off his leg for days, and he knew deep down that this was surely counterproductive to the upkeep of his prosthetic. Still, he didn’t care.

It was a lot to deal with at once.

He slipped up a few times because of it, and he screwed up a few little robberies with Michael and Gavin. Once, his leg nearly came detached running from the police. He was mortified, and he knew he needed to save quicker to buy a more agile, sports-focused prosthetic. The one he had was likely to have been stolen from an old man or something. He wanted a sleek metal leg, like that awesome girl on Kingsmen with the knife-legs. But that would be harder to hide. His mind was a mess of indecisive, confused thoughts.

Regardless, he needed this heist. The money he got from this would be enough to pay Matt back _and_ buy a new leg, whatever it looked like. It was his first, but he wouldn’t fuck it up.

“God, I need this.”

 

* * *

 The next day, though, he didn’t feel so confident. The heist started off well enough – a fairly badly designed bank with a basic security system – but in typical AH fashion, things had gone haywire petty quickly.

See, they’d gotten _in_ without issue. Michael, Ryan and Geoff entered, got everyone on the ground, put the money in the bag, that sort of thing. Jack was cruising around the block inconspicuously, waiting to pick them up. Gavin was operating from the apartment, monitoring the situation and sending updates. And Jeremy – well, he was sniping.

It wasn’t so bad. He didn’t feel like they were trying to make him be Ray. He was a soldier, after all, and a good one at that. His sniping ability was exceptional. In his heart, though, it hurt a little. 

But back to the task at hand. He was frenziedly picking off police officers as they attempted to swarm the steps of the bank. As it transpired, a resourceful banker had pressed a panic button. Gavin warned them immediately, but the call had already been placed. They had the place surrounded in five minutes.

“So what’s the plan?” shrieked Michael into his mouthpiece, taking pot-shots from the door of the bank with Ryan as Geoff kept the civilians at bay.

“I’m swinging past to pick you up,” said Jack calmly. “Just get them away from the sidewalk, okay? I hate running people over. Blood is so hard to get out of the fender.”

“Hey, Ry-Vagabond?” said Gavin suddenly over the comms.

“Yes, Vav?” said Ryan with a very long-suffering sigh.

“Do you have any painting utensils in your room?”

Everyone sighed as Gavin launched into the ‘things Ryan had in his room’ game. What Gavin got from the experience of learning everyday objects Ryan possessed was beyond Jeremy’s realm of comprehension, but he could still admit that he got a kick out of Ryan responding with yes.

“’Fraid not, Vav,” said Ryan. “I have coloured pencils, though,” he added after a moment.

Gavin squealed and was about to ask for more details when Jack roared up and pushed open the door to the van. Bullets littered the side of the car, but the car was bulletproof so it was of little consequence. Using the car as a shield, the three men sprinted to the van. 

“Go, go, go!” shouted Michael, whooping with adrenaline. The team were laughing and congratulating each other as Jeremy smiled privately to himself and began to quickly pack up his gun.

“Get out of there, Lil J,” said Geoff in his ear. “Steal a bike and meet us back at the penthouse in twenty, okay?”. It felt like an after-thought, but Jeremy took it nevertheless.

“Will do, boss,” he said, standing and pulling his kit onto his shoulder. It was then, of course, that five police officers broke down the rooftop door and began firing at him indiscriminately.

He immediately took a bullet to the shoulder and swore colourfully, spinning to his left for his backup escape route. As he turned, he drew his gun from his ankle-holster and immediately killed one of the officers. With that, he left off the roof onto the fire escape. 

“Lil J?” asked Gavin. “What was that?”

“Shot,” he panted, twirling down the stairs and doing his best to ignore the thundering footsteps and pinging bullets behind him. The crew went quiet, and Jack interrupted Gavin’s gasp. 

“We’re coming back for you,” she said firmly, and he could hear the screeching of tires in his ear.

“N-no,” he gasped, still running. God, they sounded so close. It was like their feet were on top of him. “It’s suicide, all the cops are still here. Stay away.”

“Well, what are you going to do, you fucking idiot?” snapped Michael. “They’ll kill you.” 

“Not if I can help it,” he said grimly, but they were so close now, he could see their feet just a flight above him. He looked down – three flights to go. They would reach him before he got to the bottom. There was really only one option.

In reconsideration, it was his impulsiveness that got his leg blown off in the first place. He’d strode onto the field with reckless abandon and he got sent sky-fucking-high. Yet that was what seemed to keep him alive in this industry. It was an odd turn of events, he thought reflectively, as he threw his legs over the banister and jumped.

He didn’t mean to scream but he did, the whole three-story drop. He also meant to land the way he was taught to at acrobatics, but his prosthetic seemed to seize up and it occurred to him, _fuck, I don’t know how to drop with this leg._ And so he loosened his joints, the way he was taught – except for his prosthetic. It stuck out like boom gate.

He hit the ground with all his weight on his prosthetic, and it caved beneath him like the thinnest, weakest twig on the stupidest, shittiest tree in the forest. It snapped directly in half and he hit the ground heavily.

For a moment, he was shocked and winded and there was only silence. Then suddenly his ear was filled with yells – _“Lil J, what the fuck happened?”, “J, status report now!”, “Lil J, answer me! Are you dead?”_ – but he twisted onto his back, faced his guns to the sky and took out officer after officer, who had leant over the banister to see of he was dead. They collapsed on the fire escape, guns loose and idle in their hands.

For a moment, Jeremy just breathed. His prosthetic leg was crushed beneath him, and it hurt to inhale, a little, but a catalogue of injuries revealed he was relatively unhurt. From the fall, that is. His shoulder was aching with a pain so terrible he was afraid he’d pass out.

In short, he was bleeding out, immobile and about to fall unconscious. And there was a good chance the police at the bank across the streets had heard the shots. He needed to get out of there, now.

“G-guys,” he spoke into his mouthpiece, trying to keep his voice a level as possible. “I – I broke my leg.”

“Jeremy!” wailed Gavin with relief. “You’re not dead.”

“Lil J,” Jack corrected softly. “We’re just around the corner, we’ll be there in less than a minute. Can you hold on till then?”

“Okay,” he said, his voice barely higher than a whisper. He couldn’t argue now. He needed their help. He was so disappointed with himself, but he quashed it down and focused on survival for now. He pulled himself on to his hands and knees, dragging his leg limply behind him. He crawled to the wall and pressed his back flat against it. Sure enough, he heard the static of police radios drawing closer. He drew his gun and placed it on his lap. 

“Hey, guys,” he said tentatively. “I have something to tell you.”

“This better not be deathbed confessions, Lil J,” warned Michael. “It’s just a gunshot and a broken leg, you’ll be fine, I promise.”

“S’not that,” he said faintly, his vision swimming. He could see the long shadows of the police drawing closer. “I’m about to have company, though.”

“He’s right,” said Gavin sharply. “I’m looking at the CCTV footage, there’s about twenty coppers coming down the alleyway. You guys almost there?”

“Pulling up now,” said Jack briskly, and Jeremy saw the van pull up to the entrance of the alley to his left. To his right, though, the police were rounding the corner. Michael opened the van door and took of running. There were maybe 30 feet between Jeremy and the van, and another 30 feet between Jeremy and the police.

The police saw Michael when he reached Jeremy. The pointed and drew their weapons, shouting, but Ryan, Geoff and Jack were prepared. Geoff unleased a machine gun on the crowd of officers, and the screams and thuds of bodies hitting the ground filled Jeremy’s ears. He only had eyes for Michael, though. His vision was as blurry as an out-of-focus camera, but he waiting to see the moment when Michael realised. He was bending to help Jeremy to his feet when his eyes fell on Jeremy’s leg.

He looked at Jeremy. “J, you’re leg –“

The black spot in his vision that had been threatening to take over won. “I’m sorry – I never said anything,” he managed, and then the peacefully abyss of unconsciousness took him.

 

* * *

 

All Jeremy could remember after that was a dizzying kaleidoscope of sounds and occasionally faces. He heard Michael’s choked cry to the others – “He’s a fucking _amputee –_ “ and his eyes opened for a moment to see Geoff bent over him, their faces inches apart as Geoff tried to wake him up. He blacked out immediately after but his dreams were filled with never-ending gunfire and Gavin yelling repeatedly in his ear – “Are you joking? Is he okay?” - until, finally, the noise ceased as suddenly as a radio being switched off and he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. 

When he awoke – hours, days later? – he felt as though he was blinking back into existence. Sound was the first thing to return to him, but his other senses seemed to awaken sluggishly. He stayed still for a moment, trying to get his bearings.

“…didn’t think that might be an important detail to mention?”

Jeremy paused. It sounded like Geoff, but not very close. He was speaking loudly, but they were not in the same room. If Jeremy had to hazard a guess, he’d say he was in his bedroom with the door open while Geoff was in the kitchen. Jeremy was just privately congratulating himself for his deductive skills when a slightly quieter voice spoke up. Matt. His voice was strong, though, and carried to Jeremy’s bedroom.

“Would you have hired him if you knew?” he asked lightly. 

Geoff gave a frustrated growl. “Yes! No – I don’t know, Matt, but shit, we might have done well to know today, don’t you fucking think?”

“He can handle himself,” said Matt calmly. “And he is better than any full-bodied person on the B-Team.”

“That’s not the issue.”

“Then what is?”

“The issue is he nearly _killed himself_ today and I didn’t know that I was putting him in a position of danger, that’s the fucking issue, Matt!” 

“Any sniper you had up there would have done the same thing, boss,” said Matt, suddenly very sharp. “You seem to be attributing his broken leg to the fact that the leg was a prosthetic, but anyone who jumped three stories would have broken one of their bones. It was just bad luck that the bone he broke happened to be his prosthetic. Don’t mistake his disability for the reason he was injured today.”

“How can I not?” Geoff sounded defeated. “It – his prosthetic snapped _directly in half,_ Matt, have you ever seen a real leg do that?”

“Yes,” said Matt. “It’s gross. I think you got lucky that all you saw was a bit of broken shitty plastic.”

There was a long moment of silence and then Jeremy heard Geoff clap Matt on the shoulder. “Sorry about this,” Geoff said exhaustedly. “I – I guess I was just worked up from worry.”

“It’s fine,” Matt said. “Just don’t – don’t treat him any different, okay? He hates pity.”

Jeremy felt something warm running down his cheeks and he became aware that he was crying. He was becoming aware of the fact that he might be heavily drugged right now, because he felt so desperately numb he wanted to scream. Geoff hated him Geoff pitied him Geoff was going to fire him oh god…

His devastation became physical and he was hit with a wave of exhaustion. All progress he had made to gain control of his body went out the window and he allowed the blackness to regain him, thinking before he passed out that he might as well enjoy his last night in a soft bed before he was out on his ass begging on the street again. 

* * *

 

The next time Jeremy roused, it was nighttime and he was wide awake. His eyes flickered open and he became very alert of every inch of his body. His shoulder was on fire but he was more conscious of something touching his stump. He sat up blindly, using the light from the streetlamp outside to deduce where he was – in his bed with about a thousand blankets piled atop him. He pushed them off, his panic mounting, a swung his leg into the sliver of light.

His stump was bandaged, too, and he touched it lightly and found it hurt. It felt _raw,_ and Jeremy realised that perhaps the breaking of his prosthetic had done some deeper damage to his already fucked-up leg. Bile in his throat, he began tearing at the bandages, trying to pull them off to _see_ , to be sure. If he was about to be back on the streets, he couldn’t have a leg that was any more fucked up. He couldn’t handle it. 

Suddenly a bright light blinded him, and he threw his hands front of his face to shield his eyes. As his eyes adjusted, he realised Michael had been asleep in the room with him. 

“Jeremy,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. He rubbed his eyes. “What’re you doing?”

Jeremy was at a loss of what to say. Should he explain what he was doing? Should he apologise for lying? Should he ask for forgiveness? He didn’t really know what to do. 

“Should – should I just leave?” he asked finally, his voice shaky and raw for disuse. Michael’s eyebrows shot up.

“Leave?” he echoed incredulously, loudly. “Why the fuck are you leaving, Lil J?”

“I – I –“

“You what? This isn’t the first time someone has kept a secret in this crew, Jeremy, so don’t think you’re special. It was a shock at first, yeah, but we’ve moved past it. Now I’m just mad ‘cause you’re fucking with your bandages and Trevor literally _just_ went home.”

In the middle of Michael’s speech, Jeremy heard the house begin to stir. Doors to rooms began to open. Jeremy felt terror rising in his throat at the thought of dealing with all of their anger and disappointment at once. He looked around him for anything he could use as a crutch, but there was nothing.

Geoff appeared in the doorway, then Ryan. Behind them, Jeremy could see Gavin and Jack shuffling down the hall. Panic set in.

“I – I can’t –“

“You all right, J?” asked Geoff. His face was sympathetic.

Jeremy knew he didn’t mean it like that, but he broke.

“No,” he whispered. “No. I’m not.” His voice began to rise, as his eyes frantically scanned the room. He had to get out. “I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be Ray and now I can’t even be a functional member of this fucking team because I’m fucking crippled again and I can’t go on the street again and I’ll never get another leg like this and I can’t – even – find something to get out of here with –“

It became clear by the end of the sentence that he was hyperventilating. He grabbed fistfuls of the sheets, trying not to pass out. Gavin pushed past the others, recognising the panic attack. He sat on the bed in front of Jeremy.

“Hey, hey,” he said soothingly. “Stop that nonsense now. Are you listening to me? Breathe in time with me.” He slowly breathed in and out and Jeremy did his best to copy him. “Okay, keep that pace and listen to me. We never wanted you to replace Ray. We just missed having a team of six. Do you know why we picked you? Breathe with me, now.” He breathed slowly again, watching to make sure Jeremy was matching him. “Good. Anyway, we choose you because we liked your personality. You are an excellent fighter and shooter and all that shit but we weren’t after a sniper to fill Ray’s shoes, we just wanted – well, someone to have a laugh with, I guess. We never expected anything from you.”

Jeremy’s breathing was slowing considerable and he was nodding along with what Gavin was saying, tracking his words desperately. His panic-fuelled haze was easing considerably. As Gavin talked, Jack sat on the bed, too, and the other men took seats around the room – Michael on the couch he had been sleeping on, Ryan leaning against the wall, and Geoff on the low chest of drawers.

“About your leg, too,” said Jack gently, and Jeremy’s breathing hitched again. “It’s fine. We don’t care in the slightest. It was just unexpected, that’s all. No one minds, Jeremy, I promise.”

“And we’re not going to kick you out on the street, Jeremy,” said Geoff in a tone that left no room for misinterpretation.

“Okay,” whispered Jeremy, fighting the urge to cry. Still, when Gavin looked at him and held out his arms, he accepted the hug gratefully and found he couldn’t hold himself in anymore.

He shook with silent sobs against Gavin’s chest, so full of relief and embarrassment and possibly pain medication drugs but shit, they didn’t feel like they were working now so his tears were also of pain. Gavin rubbed his back soothingly, whispering nonsense British words in his ear. Jack stroked his back too, and Jeremy heard Ryan leave the room. A few moments later, he touched Jeremy’s head gently and offered him a small cup of pills. Jeremy took them gratefully; Michael gave him a cup of water to chase them down with. His rubbed his cheeks and looked down.

“Sorry guys,” he said softly. “Sorry I’m such a mess.”

“We all are,” said Ryan, speaking for the first time. “It’s how you carry on anyway that matters. Get some rest, okay?”

He compiled, lying back on his pillows as Jack and Gavin moved off the bed to accommodate him. He realised now that the room was spinning – the drugs were taking effect. 

“Hey,” he said suddenly, remembering an earlier issue. “Is my leg fucked up?”

“Yeah,” said Geoff pleasantly. “But I think you already knew that. It’s amputated above the knee, you see.”

Jeremy began to laugh and he found it hard to stop. “No,” he gasped. “Is it more fucked up?” 

“Nah, it’s fine J,” said Gavin, pulling his blanket over him as he giggled. “Just got a little bit skinner-roo’d.”

“Top,” replied Jeremy, and laughed harder. Everyone began to smile too – his laughter was contagious, and the drugs seemed to be making it hard for him to stop.

“You’re a maniac, Jeremy,” said Michael fondly.

Jeremy didn’t disagree. He fell asleep still laughing.

* * *

 “This – is – _ridiculous!”_

Jeremy dropped with a huff on to the couch, throwing his crutch away with disgust. Ryan nodded sympathetically, reading on the opposite couch. He’d just spent a full ten minutes traversing the short distance from his bedroom to the living room, which with only two working limbs was harder than it seemed. Trevor had returned the next day and was furious to find that Jeremy had pulled the stitches in his shoulder in his franticness the night before, and so he had Jeremy put his arm in a tight sling to prevent any further movement till it healed. This, by extension, made it nearly impossible to use crutches, but Jeremy was thankfully at least that he was shot in the opposite shoulder to his currently legless leg. He could operate with one crutch on that side of his body, but he might as well have just hopped everywhere for all the movement it allowed him.

Heaving a sigh again, he reached for the remote. Gavin flopped on the couch beside him. 

“I wish you’d let us help you,” he grumbled, eyeing the crutch with dislike. “Watching you try to move with that mingey thing is like watching Bambi try to walk for the first time.”

“Graceful?” Jeremy supplied, then shook his head. “Nah, I’m fine. I just got ta buy a new leg soon, that’s all. Might do it tonight.”

“Mm,” said Gavin vaguely. “Oh, hey, I love this, leave it on.”

Jeremy put down the remote and watched Gavin out of the corner of his eye thoughtfully. He looked a little guarded. Jeremy thought about it for a moment and concluded the rest of the crew had been talking about him getting back on his two feet. He blushed at the thought. He’d just been sitting around for a whole week, making no effort to get back in the game. What must that have looked like to the others? He resolved to definitely buy a new prosthetic tonight.

The rest of the day passed lazily. Gavin and Jeremy watched a whole season of _Suits,_ ordered pizza and watched another. Ryan offered comments every now and again but simply powered through his book and ate pizza he didn’t pay for. Finally Jeremy fell asleep watching Gavin play Red Dead – he couldn’t play with just his one hand, but it was fun to watch.

When Jeremy woke up, hours later, the room was alive with people. He sat up blearily and looked towards the kitchen, which was adjoined to the lounge room. Geoff looked as though he was holding a sermon from the countertop, directing the others to distribute Chinese food evenly among dozens of plates. The whole A-Team was there, and almost everyone in the B-Team – Jeremy could see Lindsay beside Michael, Matt at the fridge, Kdin and Kerry and Miles and Trevor scattered throughout the kitchen.

“LIL JJJJJJJJJJ!” Geoff had noticed him. Jeremy waved cheerfully.

“Games night?” he shouted, and Michael responded enthusiastically.

“Fuck yeah, we’re playing Mario Kart! You’re on Matt and Trevor’s team. Better fucking move your ass though cause I’m going to sit on you in like ten seconds.” 

Jeremy hastily moved himself into a sitting position on the couch as Geoff added – “We got you something, too. In the box to your right.” He looked back with surprise but Geoff was pointedly looking down at the food. Nervously, Jeremy pulled the box beside the couch in front of him.

It was pretty heavy. Trepidation mounting, he opened it.

He breath caught in his throat. It was not just one prosthetic, it was three. With wonder, he pulled out the uppermost one – an actual blade runner. He couldn’t even look at the other two; he was so overwhelmed with emotion. How much it must have cost… 

A touch on his shoulder startled him. Geoff. “How…?” asked Jeremy.

Geoff shrugged. “Trevor measured you while you were sleeping,” he said nonchalantly.

“I’ll pay you back.” 

Geoff scoffed. “Listen, Jeremy, I have more money than I know what to do with and you are a member of this team now. I will buy you presents if I want to. Got it? Now go get some food so we can fucking play.”

Jeremy was quiet for a moment, then a grin slowly spread across his face. “Got it,” he said softly, as is speaking any loudly would make him cry. “Thanks, boss.”

“No problem, Lil J,” said Geoff, turning away quickly and taking a seat on the other couch. Jeremy chose to ignore the redness of Geoff’s ears.

Michael sat beside him, shoved a plate of food towards him. Jeremy took it gratefully as the rest of the team took their seats, Matt sitting at his feet and Trevor on the arm of the chair beside him. Matt immediately put down his food and started looking through the prosthetics, eagerly gushing about the merits of athletic models versus everyday. He begged Jeremy to try on the blade runner and Jeremy complied, chuckling at his enthusiasm. 

“I’m probably going to fall over,” he warned, and fall over he did, but it was okay. Matt laughed hysterically and Jeremy debated hotly about unexpected spring systems and everyone looked on with amusement. And when the commotion finally died down and Mario Kart finally started up, Jeremy found himself just watching everyone.

In retrospect, he’d been too worried about what everyone thought of him. He over-analysed everything that people said and did to him and in the end, the pain he caused was usually self-inflicted. He knew he was a long way off until he sorted out that issue, but he thought maybe he was starting to _get_ his self-worth. He wasn’t Ray, but people didn’t want him to be. He wasn’t a replacement. He was a new part. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, guys, hope you enjoyed some Lil J fluff! To be honest, I'm a little ashamed with myself about how tooth-rotting it is, but I do love that Boston boy. May he live forever. (The national anthem plays, but instead of the lyrics it's just Jeremy screaming 'I am Monster Truck' over and over. I shed a tear, with a hand over my heart and the sparkle of patriotism in my eyes).
> 
> I would like to add that I do not have a prosthetic limb of any description, so please by all means let me know if I have written something problematic and I will change it immediately. 
> 
> Bung us a kudos or lash us a comment if you've got the inclination ~


End file.
